E73    133 


OF  THE 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA. 


Gl  FT    OF 


Class 


Greater 
©be  to  Ummortalit^ 
S>reamer, 


Gbree  poems 


Hrtbur  S.  Ibowe 


H 


San  Jose,  Calif  otnia 
1908 


ftbe  Greater 
©be  to  1Jmmortalit\>* 
S)reamer, 


Gbree  poems 


Ertbur  S.  Tbowe 


San  Jose,  California 

1908 


Copyright  1908 

by 
Arthur  S.  Howe 


PRESS    OF   HENRY    MUHGOTTEN    nMSSWHsW  S  A  N    JOSE,    CALIFORNIA,    U.    S.    A. 


166458 


ARTHUR    S.    HCAYE 


the  Dreamers  of  the  World,  the  men  and 
women  whose  heaven-illumined  consciousness  has 
enabled  them  to  look  beyond  the  personal  and 
particular,  and  behold  the  general  and  universal; 
who,  penetrating  beyond  the  mists  and  clouds 
oj  the  present,  can  catch  the  gleams  of  the  rising 
sun  of  a  better  day;  in  recognition  of  their  service 
to  humanity,  and  in  the  hope  and  anticipation  of 
the  dawn  of  Universal  Brotherhood — the  glorious 
morning  when  "the  symbol  rises  into  fact/1  this 
little  tribute  is  dedicated  by 

Author. 


Greater  love* 

"Greater  love  hath  no  man  than  this:  that  he  lay  down 
his  life  for  his  friend." 

In  ages  long  gone  by,  in  ancient  land, 

The  "Son  of  Man"  this  law  of  love  declared: 
<4No  greater  love  is  known  by  any  man 

Than   this:  that  for  the  friend  whose  love  he 

shared 
He  give  his  life."  Thus  spake  Palestine's  Sage, 

And  in  the  utterance  of  that  beauteous  thought 
Stated  a  truth,  of  which,  in  every  age, 

Devotion  hath  the  living  witness  brought. 

Yes,  'tis  a  price  that  tests  the  depth  of  love 

To  lay  down  life — to  calmly  welcome  death 
For  love's  dear  sake — and  thus  to  willing  prove 

Its  deep  devotion;  and  with  parting  breath 
To  sing  love's  song;  to  count  the  grave  rich  gain, 

E'en  while  life's  promise  shines  forth  bright 

and  clear; 
To  die  to  earth — to  conquer  death  and  pain — 

All  for  the  friend  whose  love  is  held  most  dear. 


But  what  of  those  who  calmly  greet  death's  hour, 

Unspurredby  special  friendships — selfish  love; 
Whose  courage  manifests  the  living  power 

Of  Universal  Love  from  Heaven  above  ? 
Is  their  devotion  less,  because  they  die 

For  love  of  ALI,  HUMANITY?     Are  they 
Who  hear  and  feel  the  groan — the  bitter  cry 

Of  multitudes  upon  life's  weary  way — 

And,  hearing,  do  not  hesitate  to  place 

Upon  Love's  altar,  with  its  heav'n-iit  fire, 
Their  lives — a  sacrifice  for  all  the  race — 

With  love  surpassing  passion  or  desire, 
Accounted  less  the  lover  than  the  one 

Whose  aims — whose  life — whose  all — are  cen- 
tered near 
His  special  loves  and  friendships — his  alone — 

Those  dear  to  him,  and  those  he  holds  most 
dear? 

Grim  souls,  whose  glorious  heights  of  love  can 

reach 
Above  the  realm  of  personal  griefs  and  fears; 

Whose  depths  of  feeling,  all  controlled,  can  teach 
And  wean  the  suffering  masses  from  their  tears; 

Yea,  wake  them  to  beget  the  stronger  life, 
Born  of  a  righteous  anger,  sired  by  hate 

And  christened  "Justice;"  reared  'mid  scenes  of 

strife; 
Molded  in  human  passions,  grand  and  great. 


Grand  souls,  whose  love,  sublime,  unterrified, 

Unmoved  can  stand,  while  empires  pass  away; 
Great/'souls,  who,  persecuted,  vilified, 

Still  dare  proclaim  to  earth  the  dawning  day 
Of  BROTHERHOOD.     Who  stand  amid  the  strife, 

And,   struggling  onward   'mid  war's    hellish 

glare, 
Proclaim  "the  Resurrection  and  the  Life" — 

Earth's  glad,  free  morning,  beautiful  and  fair. 

Souls  who  can  realize,  and  who  can  see 

The  gleam  of  Freedom's  morn;  and  who  can 

bear 
The  hatred  e'en  of  those  they  seek  to  free 

From  tyranny,  injustice  and  despair, 
Souls  who  seek  not  for  approbation's  meed; 

Who,  lusting  not  for  popular  assent, 
Proclaim  the  gospel  of  man's  greater  need, 

Though  institutions  fall  and  states  be  rent. 

Soul*  who,  with  prophet's  vision,  calm  and  grand, 

Can  gaze  into  the  future,  and  can  see 
Oppression's  fetters  broken  by  the  hand 

Of  Man  enlightened,  and  of  Woman  free. 
Souls  who,  enraptured  with  the  vision  fair 

Of  human  liberty,  thus  to  them  shown, 
In  strong,  firm,  holy  resoluteness,  dare 

Tear  Superstition  from  her  ancient  throne — 


Level  her  shrines  and  altars  'mid  the  dust 

Of  empires;  shout  the  doom  of  Mammon-king 

In  thunder  tones,  while  wealth  and  money-lust 
Still  popular  homage  of  the  people  bring. 

Souls  who,  unhesitating,  can  endure 

The  hate  of  those  they  love  and  strive  to  save; 

•' 

Souls  who,  inspired  by  passion  grand  and  pure, 
March  on,  unflinching,  to  the  martyr's  grave. 

These,  then,  are  those  whose  love  divine  exceeds 

The  love  that  lays  down  life  for  dearest  friend; 
The  souls  who,  feeling  universal  needs, 

Go  on,  unwavering,  to  the  bitter  end; 
Hated  by  those  they  love,  and  crucified 

Upon  the  cross  of  bold  Authority; 
Hunted  to  death,  reviled  and  vilified 

For  centuries  after — till  men  shall  be  free. 

These  souls  possess  the  love  that  knows  and  feels; 

Which,  knowing  oneness  with  all  human  kind 
(A  knowledge  which  heav'n's  light  alone  reveals) 

Goes  forth  to  lead  the  world  from   ignorance 

blind, 
To  live  for  love  and  truth,  and  sacrifice, 

If  need  be,  hopes — ambitions — life,  and  prove 
By  their  unselfish  payment  of  the  price, 

The  passion  grand — the  holy,  GREATER  LOVE. 


8 


©5e  to  Hmmortalit?, 


O,  Life  Immortal !     Thou  whose  living  breath 

Inspires  our  inmost  souls  with  hope  and  power; 
To  thee,  the  Conqueror  of  Decay  and  Death, 

In  humble  reverence,  we  bow  this  hour. 
Whence   earnest  thou?     And  where   was   thine 
abode 

In  ages  ere  by  man  the  earth  was  trod  ? 
Aye,  e'en  before  the  birth  of  land  or  flood, 

Thou  then  existed — and  wert  Truth  and  God. 


Enwrapped  thou  art,  and  hidden  'neath  the  veil 

Of  mystery.   Thy  source  has  ne'er  been  found. 
Our  human  knowledge  is  of  no  avail, 

Thy  secret  is  so  deep,  and  so  profound. 
Thou  speakest  in  the  flower  and  in  the  stone, 

In  sun,  in  air,  in  sky,  in  earth  and  sea; 
Still  is  thy  secret  kept  to  thee  alone; 

Thou  Life  !     Thou  blessed  IMMORTALITY  ! 

Perchance,  sometime,  when  from  its  earthly  home 

My  soul  soars  upward  through  the  realms  of 

space, 
I  may,  in  some  celestial  clime  or  zone, 

Find  entrance  to  thine  inner  dwelling  place. 
But  now,  e'en  now,  this  soul  of  mine  I  know 

Shall  still  live  on,  after  its  house  of  clay 
Has  perished,  and  when  this  brief  night  below 

Is  ended — in  the  light  of  Heaven's  day. 


dreamer* 


He  stands  upon  the  eminence  that  marks 
Man's  progress  to  the  present  hour.     His  gaze 
Is  backward  cast,  along  the  road  the  race 
Has  traveled;  and  within  his  soul  he  feels 
The  yearnings,  hopes,  ambitions,  pains  and  fears 
Of  men  and  nations  numbered  with  the  dead.- 
And  as  he  gazes  back  along  the  path- 
The  rugged,  thorny  path — that  man  has  trod, 
Forth  from  its  lurking  shadows  rise  the  forms 
Of  those  whose  voices,  long  since   hushed   and 

dumb, 

Now  only  speak  to  those,  who,  in  the  hour 
Of  thoughtful  reverie,  turn  the  pages  back 
In  the  great  book  of  human  history, 
And,  in  the  'light  of  retrospect,  review 
The  struggles  of  the  races  gone  before. 

They  come!     The  heroes,  prophets,  sages,  kings 
Of  ages  past;  and  in  the  Dreamer's  ear 
They  pour  the  tales  of  victory  and  defeat, 
Of  joy  and  pain,  of  honor  and  disgrace, 
Which,  alternating,  form  the  warp  and  woof 
Of  History's  fabric,  since  the  days  of  yore 
When  ruddy  Adam  was  from  Eden  driven 
Because,  through  disobedience  to  the  will 


10 


Of  God  his  master  (thus  the  fable  reads) 

He  knowledge  sought  and  gained;  and  in  his  fall 

From  blissful  ignorance  and  simplicity, 

Is  planted  the  first  stake  that  marks  the  way 

Of  man's  eternal  upward  climb  toward 

The  portals  of  a  better  Eden,  graced 

By  vines  of  Love  and  fruits  of  Brotherhood. 

The  ancient  shades,  springing  again  to  life, 

As  History  unrolls  her  magic  scroll, 

Press  round  the  Dreamer,  and  into  his  ear 

They  chant  the  songs  and  tell  the  tales  of  yore. 

Mingled  with  lyric  strains,  that  sing  the  praise 

Of  Beauty,  deified,  immortalized 

By  sculptors'  art  in  ancient  Greece  and  Rome, 

Sound  notes  discordant;  and  the  muffled  Fates 

Chant  in  their  weird  and  solemn  tones  the  tale 

Of  Empire's  wreck  and  Revolution's  flame; 

Of  dire  misfortune,  and  of  bitter  wrong; 

Of  tortured  Innocence,  Beauty  laid  waste 

And  human  happiness  thrown  down  and  crushed 

Beneath  the  iron  heel  of  Authority 

And  Selfishness,  enthroned  in  Church  and  State. 

From  Egypt  and  from  world-famed  Babylon, 
From  Iran  and  from  Norse-land  bleak  they  come; 
Aye,  even  from  the  depths  of  Ocean's  bed — 
Where,  buried  in  the  slumber  of  a  dead, 


1 1 


Lost  continent,  sleep  tales  of  glory  gone — 

The  hoary  spirits  of  the  past  arise, 

And  tell  of  the  departed  splendor,  which 

Went  down  in  cataclysmic  wreck,  that  swept 

From  earth  the  presence  of  a  noble  race, 

Leaving  "Atlantis"  a  tradition  fair, 

To  live  in  Mystic's  lore  and  Poet's  theme. 

Yet,  'mid  the  strains  that  chant  the  rise  and  fall 

Of  long-forgotton  empires — buried  now 

Beneath  the  mouldering  ruins  of  the  past — 

The  harmony  of  Progress  greets  the  ear. 

Anon  its  tones,  melodious  and  sweet, 

Are  mingled  with  the  martyr's  dying  song; 

And  then  great  I/ither  strikes  a  mighty  chord, 

While  in  the  voice  of  bold  John  Gutenberg 

A  strain  triumphant  sounds;  the  mighty  press 

Is  launched  upon  its  mission,  and  the  means 

Of  knowledge  multiplied  a  million-fold. 

In    Pilgrim's  song,   on  Plymouth's  rock-bound 

coast, 

Its  strains  are  heard;  then  sounding  'mid  the  roar 
Of  Revolution's  tumult,  ring  the  notes 
Which  gladly  herald  to  the  world  the  birth 
Of  fair  Columbia.     Valorous  Washington, 
Great  Paine  and  Franklin  bold,  their  voices  join 
With  Henry,  Adams,  Rush  and  Jefferson, 


12 


While  thundering  cannon,  manned  by  yeomen  brave, 
Sound  forth  the  mighty  bass  of  Freedom's  song. 


* 


But  once  again,  discordant  notes  resound; 

The  bitter  cry  of  Afric's  dusky  sons, 

Held  in  the  bonds  of  slavery  on  the  soil 

Of  fair  America,  rise  high  to  Heaven; 

And  though  no  shining  angel  comes  to  loose 

The  shackles  from  their  bruised  and  weary  limbs, 

Their  piteous  moaning,  borne  upon  the  air, 

Is  heard  by  men,  whose  grand,  fraternal  love 

Spurs  them  to  action,  though  the  darts  of  hate 

Are  hurled  on  them  by  black-garbed  hypocrites, 

Who,  in  their  sacrilegious  blasphemy, 

Declare  that  human  bondage  is  the  will 

Of  a  divine  creator.     Men  arise 

Who  boldly  dare  proclaim  the  rights  of  man 

Above  the  mandate  of  an  ancient  god. 

The  Dreamer  reverent  stands,  while  Garrison 
And  noble  kindred  spirits  of  that  hour 
Pass  by  in  grand  review;  then  to  his  gaze 
The  war-flags  are  unfurled,  and  'mid  the  haze 
Of  battle's  sulphurous  smoke  and  hellish  din, 
Above  the  beat  of  drum-  and  shriek  of  shell, 
The  Song  of  Freedom  rises  once  again. 


13 


One  gaunt,  tall  figure  stands  conspicuous 
Among  the  heroes  of  that  dreadful  strife; 
Called  to  the  state-ship's  helm  in  that  dire  hour 
Of  the  Republic's  trial,  Lincoln  stands, 
His  kindly  face  furrowed  and  seamed  with  care, 
And  his  great  heart  aflame  with  tender  love 
The  simple  honor  of  the  frontier  youth, 
Now  marks  the  action  of  the  man  of  state. 

With  calm,  unwavering  purpose,  undisturbed 

By  sophist's  wile  or  threat  of  treach'rous  foe, 

His  eye  still  fixed  on  his  ideal  grand, 

Brave,  firm  and  resolute,  he  performs  his  task; 

And  though  he  fell  by  the  asassin's  hand, 

His  memory  is  venerated  still 

By  countless  millions,  and  his  noble  life 

Will  prove  an  inspiration  to  the  youth 

Of  centuries  to  come.     He  lived  and  died 

For  righteous  principle;  and  'mid  the  host 

Of  heroes,  raised  up  in  that  trying  hour, 

No  name  shines  brighter  in  Columbia's  crown 

Than  that  of  Lincoln,  her  devoted  son, 

Who  dared  defy  both  demagogue  and  priest, 

And  wipe  the  blot  of  slavery  from  her  name. 


14 


Enraptured  by  the  music  of  the  song 

That  chants  the  deeds  of  great  ones  of  the  past, 

The  Dreamer  almost  feels  that  here  'tis  meet 

To  raise  a  shrine  in  memory  of  their  names, 

Counting  the  field  of  victory  fully  won. 

But  hark!    While  with  bowed  head  and  reverent  mien 

He  stands  amid  the  spirits  of  the  past, 

A  harsh,  tumultuous  murmur  breaks  the  spell 

That,  o'er  his  soul,  the  ages'  song  has  cast. — 

The  sound  of  groans  and  curses,  rising  near, 

From  hells  of  human  suffering  and  woe, 

Recall  him  from  the  dreams  of  long  ago, 

And  wake  him  to  the  cry  of  present  needs. 

A  spirit  grim  is  standing  at  his  side, 

And  a  stern  voice  is  sounding  in  his  ear: 

"Why  stand  ye  idle?     There  is  work  for  all." 

It  is  the  voice  of  he,  who,  long  ago, 

Walked  in  the  streets  of  old  Jerusalem; — 

The  voice,  that,  raised  in  protest  'gainst  the  rule 

Of  ancient  custom  and  tradition's  curse, 

Was  silenced  on  the  cross  of  Calvary; 

But  now,  his  spirit,  resolute  and  stern, 

Stands  in  its  majesty  and  loud  demands 

That  once  again  the  earth  shall  hear  his  voice. 

'  'Think  ye  that  human  suffering  and  woe 

No  longer  stir  compassion  in  my  soul  ? 


15 


Think  ye  the  spoilers'  curse  upon  the  earth 
Less  hateful  to  me  than  in  days  of  old  ? 
Think  ye  the  law  of  equity  I  taught — 
'That  which  man  soweth,  also  must  he  reap' — 
Has  changed?     That  in  the  shadow  of  the  cross 
Your  souls  may  hide  ?     That  Justice  is  asleep  ? 

"Think  ye  my  suffering  on  Golgotha's  tree, 

The  thorns  upon  my  brow,  my  nail  pierced  hands 

And  bleeding  side,  for  your  sins  can  atone, 

While,  careless  of  the  suffering  and  woe 

Of  these — my  brethren — still  ye  press  the  thorns 

Of  brutal  servitude  upon  their  brows  ? 

The  altars  and  the  fanes  ye  rear  to  me, 

Steepled,  and  domed,  and  fashioned  by  the  hands 

Of  those  who  groan  'neath  the  oppressor's  rod, 

Are  an  abomination  in  my  sight. 

The  chanted  psalms  of  singers,  hired  for  gold, 

Are  discord  to  my  ears.     The  pomp,  and  show, 

And  vain  lip-service  that  ye  give  to  me, 

While,  on  the  earth,  hell's  kingdom  holds  full  sway, 

Are  mockery  and  insult  to  my  name. 

"The  angels'  song  of  'Peace,  good  will  to  men,' 
Resounding  o'er  Judea's  plains  of  yore, 
Ye  loud  proclaim — then  in  your  lives  deny- 
While  with  the  yoke  of  Mammon's  golden  god 

16 


The  suffering  workers  of  the  earth  are  galled; 

And  warlike  hosts,  in  glittering  array, 

Still  desolate  the  earth,  and  mothers'  hearts 

Are  pierced  and  broken,  while  the  toll  of  blood 

Is  paid  upon  the  crimson  field  df  Mars. 

Ye  pray  that  heaven's  kingdom  soon  may  dawn 

Upon  the  earth,  while,  in  hypocrisy, 

Ye  feed  the  flames  of  hell,  and  in  your  greed 

Drive  men  and  women  to  perdition's  pit. 

Think  not  because  ye  cry  to  me,  'Lord,  Lord,' 

It  shall  avail — for  Justice  is  at  hand. 

"The  yawning  gateways  of  your  factories 

Are  entrances  to  Molech's  fearful  shrine, 

And  tender  children  ye  would  sacrifice 

Upon  the  fiery  altar  of  your  greed, 

Cry  out  to  heaven  for  their  deliverance; 

And  while  ye — stony-hearted — heed  them  not, 

Think  ye  the  hand  of  Justice  e'er  shall  stay? 

Nay,  for  the  time  of  reaping  is  at  hand, 

And  harvest  must  ye  reap  from  all  the  seed 

That  ye  have  sown.     The  bleeding,  broken  hearts 

Of  mothers,  weeping  for  their  cherished  sons, 

The  souls  of  children,  crushed  beneath  the  wheels 

Of  Mammon's  golden  car,  the  tears  of  shame 

Upon  the  cheek  of  beauteous  Magdalene, 

All  cry  for  vengeance,  and  thy  day  has  come." 

17 


The  august  shade,  his  fearful  message  given, 

Fades  from  the  Dreamer's  vision,  and  is  gone; 

But  louder  grow  the  curses  and  the  cries 

Of  millions  laboring  'neath  the  spoilers'  curse; 

Now,  roused  at  last  to  knowledge  of  their  strength, 

The  pent-up  fury  of  their  passion  bursts, 

Even  as,  after  warning  rumblings,  breaks 

The  fierce  eruption  of  Vesuvius, 

And  in  its  awful  rain  of  fire  hurls  down 

Death  and  destruction  on  the  slopes  beneath. 

Outraged  and  maddened  by  their  mighty  wrongs, 

Their  lean,  wolf  faces — threatening  to  behold — 

Show  ghastly  in  the  light  of  angry  flames 

Their  torches  kindle;  and  their  curses  wild 

Strike  terror  to  the  hearts  of  all  who  hear. 

The  heavens  are  veined  with  lightning,  and  the  night 

Of  war  and  desolation  closes  down, 

Seeming  to  smother  with  its  hateful  pall 

All  that  is  human  in  the  hearts  of  men. 

Forth  from  the  dens  of  ignorance  and  woe 

Swarm  greed-cursed  toilers,  filled  with  maddening  hate, 

While  fitful  flames  anon  spring  up,  and  shed 

Their  ruddy  light  upon  the  sickening  scenes 

Of  blood  and  violence;  as  though,  perchance, 

The  demons  of  a  thousand  hells  were  loosed, 

To  wreak  their  vengeance  on  the  suffering  earth; 

18 


The  stifling  air  is  rent  with  shrieks  and  groans, 
And  War's  dread  thunders  belch  forth  hail  of  death, 
Until  it  seems  the  ages'  promise  fair 
Is  doomed  to  perish,  and  its  song  to  cease. 

But  hark!  Still,  sounding  'mid  the  clamorous  strife, 
The  notes  of  Freedom's  glorious  song  resound; 
Faintly  at  first,  then  ringing  loud  and  clear, 
As,  led  by  souls  exalted,  the  refrain 
Is  caught  up  by  the  teeming  multitude; 
Then,  while  in  mighty  tones  the  anthem  swells, 
The  pall  of  war  is  lifted,  and  behold ! 
The  sky,  so  lately  dark  with  heavy  clouds 
And  riv'n  by  lightning's  terrors,  now  reveals 
The  rainbow  promise  in  its  azure  arch, 
Betokening  the  welcome  day  of  peace. 
Upon  the  hills  and  towers  the  heralds  shout : 
"Behold  !  The  Dawn  of  Brotherhood  is  come, 
Foretold  by  sage  and  prophet,  long  ago. 
Rejoice!  Now,  truly,  man  hath  Eden  found; 
Earth  is  redeemed  from  strife,  and  sin,  and  woe." 


* 


The  spirits  of  the  past  have  flown;  but  now 
Beside  the  Dreamer  stands  a  radiant  one, 
Clothed  in  the  glory  of  the  rising  morn. 


19 


It  is  the  Muse  of  Brotherhood.     His  hand 
Is  laid  upon  the  Dreamer's  eyes,  and  lo! 
The  veil  obscuring  future  vision  lifts, 
And  a  new  earth — most  beauteous  to  behold — 
Is  now  revealed  to  his  enraptured  gaze. 
He  sees  the  age-long  struggle  ended,  and 
Justice  and  Truth  reigning  o'er  all  the  earth, 
Where  men  for  untold  centuries  had  knelt 
To  worship  Custom  and  Authority — 
Kissing  the  hand  that  lashed  them,  and  upon 
Their  limbs,  in  ignorance,  blindly  forging  still 
The  galling  shackles  of  their  slavery. 

The  Dreamer  with  ecstatic  joy  beholds 

The  pillars  of  the  State  Fraternal  rise, 

Rearing  its  grand,  majestic  beauty  o'er 

The  ashes  of  a  dead,  barbaric  past. 

Hushed  is  the  cannon's  roar,  and  in  its  stead 

A  world-wide  chorus  rises  in  accord — 

The  song-victorious  of  humanity. 

No  more  the  demons  Privilege  and  Caste 

Before  the  gates  of  happy  Eden  stand, 

Forbidding  men  to  enter  and  enjoy; 

For  Caste  and  Privilege  departed,  when, 

In  bitter,  fiery  conflict,  thundered  down 

Both  cloister  and  throne.     Their  bulwarks  gone, 

Downward  they  sink,  to  the  infernal  pit 

Of  hell,  from  whence  their  hateful  spirits  came. 

20 


All  men  now  labor  for  the  common  weal, 
Toiling  in  unison,  with  purpose  grand; 
And  Science,  leaping  forth  with  giant  stride, 
Works  unheard  wonders.     Now  the  arid  wastes 
Are  made  to  bloom  and  blossom  like  the  rose, 
For  all  are  sharers  in  the  fruits  of  toil. 
No  more  from  hungry,  homeless  ones  goes  up 
The  wail  of  agony,  while  heartless  Greed 
Limits  the  harvest  yield,  and  hoards  away 
Earth's  fruits  from  millions  of  her  toiling  sons. 
No  more  do  baleful  Pestilence  and  Crime 
Stalk  in  the  cities,  for  they,  too,  have  fled 
Before  the  on-march  of  Fraternity; 
But  peace  and  plenty  now,  on  every  hand, 
Proclaim  the  glory  of  a  world  redeemed. 


This  is  the  Dream  of  Centuries;  the  song 
That,  ringing  through  the  darkness  of  the  past, 
Has  cheered  the  soul  of  man,  and  set  his  face 
Toward  the  shining  goal;  spurring  him  on 
Along  the  upward  pathway,  though  his  road 
Was  dark  and  thorny.     This  the  vision  bright 
Off  sung  by  poet  and  foretold  by  seer; 
The  holy  cause  for  whose  dear  name  have  died 
The  christs  and  heroes  of  the  long  ago. 


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And  till  the  holy  flame  of  Brotherhood 

Kindles  the  altar  fire  in  every  breast, 

The  Vision  Beautiful  shall  still  be  seen 

By  Earth's  great  children,  and  the  Glorious  Song 

Shall  evermore  resound,  until,  at  last, 

Its  strains  shall  swell  in  harmony  divine 

The  chorus  of  redeemed  humanity — 

Earth's  glad  hymn  of  Fraternity  and  Peace. 


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